⁠On the wide level of a mountain's head,
⁠(I knew not where, but 'twas some faery place)
⁠Their pinions, ostrich-like for sails outspread,
⁠Two lovely children run an endless race,
⁠A sister and a brother!
⁠This far outstript the other;
⁠Yet ever runs she with reverted face,
⁠And looks and listens for the boy behind:
⁠For he, alas! is blind!
O'er rough and smooth, with even step he pass'd,
And knows not whether he be first or last.